Ballad of a Robin
by MissScorp
Summary: Like any ten-year-old Damian wishes that his mother was there to take care of him when he's ill. But the young superhero makes a startling discovery: that while Talia al Ghul may have been his 'mother', she most definitely was not his 'mom'. And his mom knew exactly what her baby bird needed.
1. Robin and his Mom

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for my story concept.

**A/N: **This story is a _what if_, alternative universe take that builds upon the question of what if Bruce Wayne had really died at the hands of Darkseid. It also takes a liberal interpretation on what Bruce essentially said to his children in his will (which I define as not being him, to live life to the fullest and to be happy). Take this for what it is: my interpretation and take on that very idea. Reviews are definitely appreciated ladies and gentlemen!

Also, since I am participating in the Review Tag over on FFN's in the Reviews Lounge, Too forums (come join us folks, we do not bite, honest!), I feel it beneficial to tell those people who are fandom blind that I am writing this out of response _to_ the travesty of what Grant Morrison did in his conclusion of his Batman Incorporated storyline by having Talia essentially be the one to kill her Damian Wayne/Robin (through the use of the Heretic, who is another clone essentially of Damian that is aged to maturity by Talia).

* * *

Damian was dying. Or at least he thought that this was what it would feel like if he was dying. Every inch of his body hurt. Even his _hair_ hurt-and man that was a really weird pain to feel he thought as he struggled to find a comfortable position in which to lay. In the quiet of his bedroom his breathing was loud and raspy; his entire body shuddered with it. And he was hot-so very, very hot. He must have fidgeted or made some type of sound because suddenly a cool cloth was being laid across his forehead and a soft voice was whispering to him that he would "feel better in a few minutes."

That the owner of that voice was a woman that he pretended to barely tolerate when he was healthy was a fact not lost upon the boy known round the world as Robin. But remembering to keep up his scornful pretense and disdain was forgotten in the instant that that moist rag was set upon his overheated flesh. Damian let out a tiny little moan at the momentary relief from the fires licking at his insides and was further rewarded when her cool hand cupped his cheek, thumb stroking gently, soothingly. Then she set a cool rag on his aching belly and oh! she was his bestest friend in the whole wide world now. And he couldn't care less about who knew it. He was simply too close to death to care if the world knew his dirty little secret. But then the fire returned, raging hotter than before and igniting his vitriolic temper. "Kean," he whispered, and the harsh, choking sound of his voice shocked him. "Go..._away_."

But he didn't mean that and he knew it. A small part of Damian wished that it was his mother stroking his cheek at that moment, and his mother at his side while he did battle with the Grim Reaper. But that was ridiculous, of course. His mother wasn't the kind of person to either notice when he needed cuddling and coddling, or to indulge him in such a childish want and need. But another part of Damian opted to be honest-really, really honest- and reminded the youth about how his mother only noticed him whenever he was part of the team threatening to stop one of her plans from coming to fruition. And told him that she only needed him when it served to hurt or distract either his father or his new guardian, Dick Grayson.

Quite simply, his mother was not the kind of mother who would sit at his bedside and hold his hand while he battled an illness. His mother was not the kind of mother who'd run her fingers through his sweat damp hair, or rub his back as he threw up the contents of his stomach for the millionth time. She wouldn't read him his favorite book aloud, or coax him into eating that god awful stuff Pennyworth called chicken-noodle soup by bringing him lime Jello. His mother would not have spent three days watching every Jet Li and Jackie Chan film, or...or...or...every thought fled the moment that soft lips brushed his forehead in a kiss that he didn't react to with his typical _how-dare-you-touch-me-like-that-_attitude.

His mother never kissed him like that, he thought, long-buried resentment and hurt raging with the illness for dominance over his body. She'd never thought it important to show her son any type of warmth or affection. And she'd only scoff if someone told her that he needed nurturing. She'd say he was an assassin, an elite specimen of genetic perfection and had no need for such trivial human emotions. His mother had no idea that he had a deep, almost drowning need to be wanted and loved by her. Not that she'd have cared the ten-year-old thought bitterly.

Again that honest side reared its ugly head and whispered to him about how his mother had never gone out of her way to actually understand the son she'd had her team of scientists and doctors create out of a mix of her genetic material, and the genetic material that she'd stolen from his father. She'd certainly not understood that his decision to remain with Grayson as his Robin was not an act of defiance or betrayal, but the only way in which he could still feel close to his father. And she certainly had not understood why her son preferred to wear the cape and mask of Robin over the spandex bodysuit of an Assassin.

And that, he thought as another round of nausea nearly overtook him, was because his mother had never realized that she had a responsibility to be both his _Mom _as well as his _Mother_. She'd simply dumped him into his father's lap when she was done grooming him and walked away with barely a backwards glance. She'd certainly never thought about his needing her guidance and influence as much as he needed his father's. And she'd never anticipated that a woman, a longtime friend and associate of Grayson's, would take one look at him and decide to take up that mantle that his mother was neglecting. And she took on that responsibility not because she had to, Damian knew now, but because she _wanted_ to.

In the year since his father's death it had been Raya Kean-cousin of Barbara Kean-Gordon, and not his own mother, who'd been there for him through every step of his grieving process. It had been Raya, and not his mother, who'd fostered his desire to find his identity-both as the son of Bruce Wayne and as Robin. And it had been Raya who'd encouraged him to spread his wings and try whatever things suited him-taking him to plays he told her that he wanted to see, signing him up for classes that he wanted to take, allowing him to go on solo missions much to the protestations and disapproval of both Grayson and _Drake_.

Oh, it had infuriated his mother when she'd found out that someone of "inferior breeding" was helping to raise her son. She'd unleashed an army of her Man-Bats upon Gotham and sent some of her best Assassins to swarm Wayne Manor. And found herself at the tip of a sword wielded by the very woman she'd come to kill for having "usurped her position" as his "mother." Oh, his mother had more than met her match that day. Because the woman his mother claimed to be _inferior, _had called an_ usurper, _had fought like a female grizzly bear protecting her cub. And point blank told Talia that if she "ever came near her Robin again" that she'd "forget about her training and commitment to defending life" and "end her."

It was at the moment when his mother was at the point of Raya's sword-which was really Father's sword, but that wasn't important- that Damian had learned that there was a difference between _Mothers _and _Moms_. Moms weren't created at the point of conception. Nor were they an occasional and disruptive intrusion in their child's life. Moms were a rare and special type of person. They stepped up and did what mothers either refused to do, or could not do for one reason or another. They put the needs of their child ahead of their own and did what was necessary to protect their child from harm. They loved that child without attaching conditions to that love. Moms _chose_ to be Moms. And they remained moms until the day they died. And for all that Talia al Ghul liked to think of herself as his mother, she was absolutely not his _mom_.

Because she wasn't the one who had fresh baked peanut butter cookies waiting when he got home from a late night patrol. And she didn't try to cheer him up whenever he was sad by telling him about one of Graysons's hilariously embarrassing mishaps as Robin. Nor did she try to tease him out of one of his black moods by telling him some lame joke that had him rolling his eyes more often than not. His mother would never put up with his surliness, or patiently wait until his temper tantrum was over before calmly asking him "what's wrong."

She wouldn't listen to his suggestions, or ask his advice, or include him in "family decisions." She certainly had never asked him what his hopes and dreams were. And knew nothing about his likes and dislikes. She didn't know that his favorite movie was Martian Child. Or that he loved chocolate ice cream with peanut butter cups crumbled on top. She didn't know that his least favorite season was winter and that he loved decorating for Halloween. She definitely didn't know about his secret obsession with cats. And she'd never have gone out of her way to track down that cat figurine he'd seen in a shop window when he was in Hong Kong two summers before and been to terrified to ask his father to buy for him.

And she wouldn't be looking down at him right now, green eyes bright with concern as they took in his flushed features, his blue eyes dilated with fever. She would have left him in the care of whatever doctors and nurses she'd hired to take care of him, and gone about her own business as if she didn't have a care in the world beyond satisfying her own personal agenda. Nor would she, when he began to whimper from the pain, crawl into bed next to him and enfold him in her arms. Or begin to sing that dumb song that he'd never admit out loud that he loved listening to her sing. Not that he needed to tell her he thought, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. Moms, he'd discovered, just knew those kinds of things.

Yeah, Talia al Ghul may have been his _mother_, but she most definitely was not his _mom_. Because his mom was a warm and real woman that smelled like the air after a summer rainstorm. His mom was the one always waiting with a smile, with a hug-that he'd feign disdain for of course-with a kind word. His mom was the one who was going to be there when he woke up in the morning. Just as she'd been there every morning for the last year. And as he began to drift slowly to sleep, lulled by her soft, bluesy voice and the feel of her curled around him, his final thought was: _Grayson, you'd better not screw up what we have here._


	2. I'm a Dad

He'd never call her _mom_.

She'd never admit he was her _son_.

But as Dick Grayson stood in the doorway of their bedroom, watching as Raya soothed the fractious and feverish Damian, he told himself that that was exactly what they were.

And they were both _his_.

A tired smile creased his lips as he leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and listened as she softly sang to their baby bird. '_You'll Be In My Heart'_, he thought. _But he's not your son, right Raya? _But then the realization struck him about how Damian was not just _her_ son. He was _their_ son. _Their_baby bird. Theirs to love, theirs to hold, and theirs to watch grow up. Theirs because his mother wasn't capable of loving him. Theirs because his father had been taken from him.

Damian had become an orphan the night Bruce Wayne perished at the hands of Darkseid. Same as he'd become an orphan the night John and Mary Grayson were murdered. And same as Raya had become an orphan the night her father murdered her mother. It was a cruel circle. One that Dick wished the boy had never been subjected too. But sadly, he was a point now upon that vicious knot. And he was now _theirs _because of it. He snorted a quiet laugh at the irony.

If someone, anyone would have told him that this was going to be his life twelve months ago, he'd have scoffed at them.

Told them that there was absolutely no way.

That it was simply ludicrous for them to think, to even suggest that the venerable Batman would fall to the new God, Darkseid.

It wouldn't happen he'd say.

It couldn't happen.

End. Of. Subject.

And while he may have admitted that it was possible that Bruce would ask him to don the infamous cape and cowl while he took some much needed downtime following the _Final Crisis_, he'd say it was only going to be for a few months at most. Bruce Wayne was far from ready to hand over Batman's cowl and _he_ was far from ready to permanently wear it, anyway. And he'd have pointed out that he was much more comfortable flying through the streets of Gotham as Nightwing than he was as Batman. Dick Grayson had crafted his own larger than life image and had no need to step into someone else's.

And at no point would he have believed them when they said that he was going to become both the guardian and mentor of Bruce Wayne's son, Damian. For starters, he'd tell them that there was no way that he would choose to pass the mantle of Robin onto the pernicious nine-year-old. The boy wasn't going to accept anyone but Bruce as his mentor, and would not wish to be Robin if somebody other than his father was Batman. And he'd have waved off the idea of his becoming Damian's guardian, snorted at the absurdity.

Talia, he'd say, would take her son and raise him as an assassin, as another weapon she'd use in her and her father's quest to burn Gotham to the ground. There was no need for him to step forward and become what the boy lost: his father. And he'd have said, laughing good-naturedly, he was "barely twenty-five," he was "a bachelor," and in no way ready to become a "parent," anyway.

And then he'd tell them about how this was all pointless speculation.

None of these things were ever going to happen.

Ever _could _happen.

But he'd be wrong.

Utterly, horribly, irrevocably, _wrong_.

Because every one of those things he'd have scoffed at, that he would have waved off, laughed at, had come true.

Unthinkably, unimaginably, unbelievably, _true_.

Batman _had _fallen during the _Final Crisis_, his soul sucked into the _Omega Sanction_. And they knew this because it was the Man of Steel who had lain the fallen Knights burned and empty husk at the feet of his grief-stricken sons. And it was Superman himself who put the casket that was bearing Batman's remains into the ground a few days later. The days following Bruce's death had been the single most difficult days of his life. Not only was he dealing with his grief over _Bruce's_ death, but he was also having to deal with the aftermath of _Batman's_ death at the same time.

And he was having to deal with family and friends all telling him about what he should do, what he had to do...

...what he _couldn't_ do because of the request Bruce made in his _Last Will and Testament_.

A request that Dick now saw as a plea for him to not live the lonely, dreary existence that his father had. Bruce told him to find a balance between his life as a crime fighter and his life as Richard Grayson. And instructed him to find "love and happiness." To "get married and have a family of his own." And absolutely begged him to _live, not simply exist_.

Oh, he'd tried-like the good birdie that Jason always accused him of being, to abide by Bruce's wishes. He took to the streets of Gotham as Nightwing, utilizing Tim and Damian both to help restore order to the city. But keeping an after-death promise to your father with your brother hellbent on tarnishing everything that your father lived and died for, was next to impossible. He'd finally had no choice but to step into that infamous role, to assert himself as the rightful wearer of that costume, and slowly carve out his own legacy as the Dark Knight.

And yet, it was finding himself standing on that very same plateau that Bruce, himself, had stood upon the night his parents had been killed that was going to be the one that ultimately changed his life the most. Dick had been nine when Bruce had taken him as his ward. And ten when he'd become Robin. They quickly became the dynamic duo- the brooding and grim Batman and his lighthearted sidekick Robin. They were each others balance. Provided the other with the things they were lacking.

But he'd learned long ago that they'd forged a relationship that went well beyond that of _partners_. They were much more than _apprentice-protégé_, more than just _guardian_ and _ward _even. They'd become _father_ and _son_. Bruce Wayne had filled the hole the death of John Grayson had left within him. The same hole that had now been left within Damian, he thought, folding his arms over his chest. It was a hole which Dick planned to do everything he could in order to fill. _Just like you would want me to do_, he said silently to his missing parent.

Because he was now twenty-six, he was Batman, and he was fine with being _dad_ to his adoptive father's son. Because he could be the kid's dad. He wanted to be his dad, in fact. No, his life was not the particular one that _he _had envisioned himself to be living. It was a whole lot better. Oh, he still missed Bruce. Some days so much that it hurt. But he was happier now than he had been at twenty-five. Hell, he was happier now than he'd been at twenty-one for that matter.

And some of that was because of the woman curled around the agitated boy. Raya had been there beside him through each and every one of those life changing events. The night he knocked on her apartment door had been the absolute lowest point in his life. Struggling with his grief, with his anger and with friends and family hammering at him about taking up the mantle of Batman, he'd gone to the only person he could think of who'd offer him the comfort he desperately needed: his best friend.

Raya had not only given him the warmth and comfort he'd needed, though. She had also stepped up to the plate and become the partner he'd needed, as well. They had talked all that night about what the options were, about what it was they thought Bruce would want them to do and what he expected. And together had come up with the most simplest of solutions: become a family. But becoming a family was easier said, than done.

The Bat-family had fragmented once their flagship member was gone and a couple of members held no desire to be returned to the fold. And Dick could admit that neither of them had grown up in what could be called a _normal family environment_. He'd lived with Bruce Wayne and Raya had lived with her uncle, James Gordon. Two variations of crime fighters. Neither life a normal one. No matter how hard either man tried to make it one.

And the both of them were forced to admit that Jason made an excellent point when he told them; "The life we lead? We're never truly alone. Every day is a fresh horror. Every memory a nightmare. Even when it is just the two of us... there's a pasty-faced clown sitting in the corner of the room, just laughing. At us."

Which was why they'd decided to implement a big change in their families crime fighting organization. It was a rule they designed specifically because of what Jason said. And it was a rule that would effect not just the current Robin they decided, but Red Robin as well. Tim and Damian had witnessed enough horror, had been traumatized enough. They deserved a chance at some type of normal life. Which was why neither was allowed out on patrols between the hours of 12:00 AM Monday morning through 3:59 PM Friday. All birdies that were either under eighteen or still in school were grounded between those hours, unless it was absolutely necessary for them to don their costumes, of course.

And they'd mandated that between those hours that those little birdies were to do what all the other little birdies did: _live_. They were to do whatever it was that normal little birdies who did not prowl Gotham as crime fighters, did. It was a rule that both had objected to, Tim much more loudly than Damian. But they'd held firm, told both boys that they could either agree to give the new rule a try or hand in their masks then and there.

It had not been an easy or happy adjustment period. There had been quite a few fights and screaming matches. And surprisingly Damian and Tim had managed to set aside their differences long enough to mount quite an offensive against them. But he and Raya had banded together, snipped the wings of their angry birdies and established themselves as the heads of the family. _The_ _parents_. And slowly but surely, those birdies began to adjust and accept this rule for what it was: a chance at a normal life.

They had also mandated that the family would eat a minimum of one meal-typically dinner- together on each of those weeknights. The dinner table was the one place where they could discuss their days with each other, talk about individual problems or family concerns, whatever. Silence was not something that was going to be permitted or tolerated in this house. And the members of this house were no longer allowed to suppress their thoughts and feelings. Problems and decisions were discussed and handled as a family, with each member having an equal say in how and what was decided. But, they'd affirmed, all final decisions were theirs ultimately to make.

The only one decision that they'd not discussed first was Raya deciding to resign from the GCPD as their in-house Psychologist in order to become a stay-at-home parent. He'd balked at first, told her there was no need for her to do something so drastic. Giving up her career wasn't something that he'd expected her to do. But done it she had. And stated that the financial security of their combined bank accounts allowed her the freedom too become a stay-at-home parent. The mom. _Not that she'll ever admit that that is what she is_, Dick thought as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to brush his fingers through Damian's sweat damp hair.

"Is he feeling any better?" he asked her in a hushed tone.

That head turned, those green eyes fixing on him, studying him. He had removed his black body armor, the scalloped cape, cowl and gloves. But, in his haste to check on Damian, he had forgotten to pull on a pair of the cotton sleep shorts that he normally wore to bed.

And the fact that he was sitting there in the bat-logo boxers that she'd gotten him as a gag gift for his birthday was so absolutely absurd that it had a small gurgle of laughter rising in her throat. _And ya didn't think you were ready or able to be a good daddy_, she thought amusedly. _You're doing a pretty good job so far, Dick_.

"Yes, some," she kept her voice down, went to unfurl her body from around that of their baby bird, but Dick stopped her with a gentle hand on her side.

"Don't get up," he said.

"But..."

"_You've _had your hands full taking care of Damian damn near around the clock for the last three days," he interjected. "You could use some rest, Raya."

She gave in only because she was simply to tired to argue.

"Alright. But let Alfred get you some dinner at least."

He shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

He looked tired all of the sudden, she saw. Bone-weary. It stirred her, a mixture of sympathy and understanding. She patted the space behind her.

"Come to bed, Dick."

"I love when you use those particular words, Rae." He gave her what he hoped passed for a cheeky grin. "But not tonight. I'm way too tired and we have a sick Robin in our bed."

She humphed; rolled her eyes.

"You'll recall that it was me using those particular words that led to the soon-to-be addition to our nest, Batbrain."

"I know."

His hand slid to her still flat stomach. A protective possessiveness filled him whenever he thought of the life that was growing beneath his palm. A life they'd created together and which was going to be the best-and worst, of them both. Thinking about their son or daughter filled him with a giddy elation, a quiet contentment and excitement. But there was a fear inside him, too. A dark, twisted mass that reminded him about Gotham being a cornucopia of violence, lust and greed.

A place where children so often got caught in the crosshairs, became the innocent victims of the war being fought around them. But he'd do whatever he had to-fight harder, longer, smarter, to ensure that Gotham's stain never touched either of his children. _I promise that I will do everything I can to keep you safe_. He glanced at Damian; saw the boy was still resting quietly. _I will do everything that I have to, to protect you both_.

Raya watched his face become a mask of hard angles and planes; determination incarnate. A warrior who had found a cause and who was going to defend what was his until his last breath. _Like good dads do_. And he'd become an awesome dad. With Damian he was unfailingly patient, quietly understanding, and unwaveringly supportive. He was also openly affectionate, fiercely protective, and abundantly honest.

When it came to punishments he was firm, but fair. And he was always there to listen, no matter how tired or busy he was. He was everything that either Bruce Wayne or John Grayson could have hoped him to be. And more than either man would ever know that he was. The thought filled her with a moments sadness. _You'd both be so proud of the man you raised_.

"Have you talked with Damian about the baby?" he asked her.

"No," she sighed. "We only found out that I'm pregnant a few days ago. And I didn't want to dump this on him while he was so sick. I figure that soon as he's better we'll sit down and talk about the baby with him."

"I just hope that he takes the news _reasonably_ well."

"It's a big change, Dick." Raya's fingers linked with his. "For us as much as for him."

"I know," he sighed once, softly. "I'm just worried about new-baby jealousy."

"As long as we keep reminding him that we love him, that we will always be there for him and assuring him that the baby will not, in any way, replace him either in our hearts, or in this family, we should be able to weather the little bit of new-baby jealousy that might occur."

He leaned down to brush her lips with his.

"Have I ever told you that I find that analytical little mind of yours incredibly sexy?"

"I tend to recall ya sayin' it a time or two," she smiled as she tugged on his hand. "Now, will ya _please_ come to bed?"

"Alright."

He stretched out behind her, curling his arm around the two people who meant the world to him and holding them tight. A silent guardian even in sleep.


	3. I'm the big brother

_A baby_, was his first thought. _She's having a baby_. But then that thought was quickly followed by another, even more profound one: _she's having _Dick's_ baby_. Damian was adrift in a sea of chaos. On one hand, he was immensely pleased that Dick was making an honest attempt at making his relationship with Raya work. When they'd told him about their decision to get married, he'd almost danced around the apartment with glee. But Raya was now having a baby—_his_ baby. And Damian just knew that everything was about to change because of it.

For the rest of their lives, Raya and Dick were linked, bonded together because of the life that they'd mutually helped create. And while he wanted them to be together, wanted them all to be a family in fact, he just wasn't sure about how he felt about this soon-to-be addition to their little Batclan. He'd only _just_ accepted that he had a mom and dad who loved him, and older brothers who annoyed the ever loving _crap_ outta him. And he simply wasn't sure that he was ready to share Raya with this microscopic being growing inside her belly. No more than he was ready to share Dick for that matter.

Because he'd come to realize that if Raya Kean was his _mom_, then Dick Grayson was, without a shadow of a doubt, his _dad_. Nobody but his dad would bring holy terror down upon a criminal empire for merely having threatened to lay a hand upon him. And nobody but a dad would run to the grocery store after a long night of fighting crime just to get his son ginger ale and saltines. But that was just the kind of man that Richard John Grayson was. No matter what emotional baggage he was dealing with, no matter how exhausted he was, he was there for his family. One hundred percent, no questions asked.

The last year had brought about a lot of changes in the once easy going, wisecracking superhero though. Dick had become a much more somber and serious man since father's death, reining in his oftentimes reckless nature and employing a much more strategic type tactic when he was out on patrol. And even though Dick still made his quirky and witty remarks (that still annoyed the hell out of him), that carefree, playful side that was such a predominant part of his personality, was no longer as prevalent as it had been. It was as if being forced into becoming the patriarch of the family had not only prompted Dick to finally mature into his adult skin, but convinced him that he was worthy of taking the leadership role that came so naturally to him.

But Damian knew that some of that was also because he'd taken Bruce's death personally; blaming himself for not seeing that the venerable Dark Knight was not physically, nor mentally up to the task of fighting the new God on his own. Dick's conviction about it having been solely up to him to make sure that Batman got home safe that night and his feeling of having failed to do so caused his personality to take on a darker, colder edge. Because family, Damian had come to realize, meant everything in the world to a man like Richard Grayson. And Heaven help whoever was foolish enough to threaten a member of that family.

His mother had found out the hard way about what type of man Dick was. She'd learned that she could not push around and manipulate Dick Grayson as she could Bruce Wayne. Dick was not blinded by any type of tender feelings for his mother. Nor could she use her son as a means of manipulation. Not that she had not attempted too. Damian had stood in awe, unable to believe that the two people who were not required to protect him, who were not even supposed to fight for him, were in fact doing so. Batman and Robin might be known as the dynamic duo, but Raya and Dick were a force to reckon with when it came to a member of their family being threatened or hurt. Dick had held the point of his own sword to his mother's throat and told her, in no uncertain terms, that if she "ever came near him again," that she wouldn't have to worry about Raya ending her, he'd do it himself. It was the first, and only time that he'd ever heard Dick make such a deadly promise.

That was the moment when Damian realized that he was being given a chance at finally having a _dad_. Bruce Wayne had done his best to be the kind of father that he thought his son needed. But they'd simply not had enough time in which to forge a true father-son bond. And while Dick was certainly never going to replace his father, he was a pretty awesome substitute. Dick had forged a bond with him when they'd merely been brothers-teaching him all those things that only an older brother could teach him. But now he taught him all those things that only a dad could teach to his son.

Dick loved him without attaching requisites to his love. And he was there for him whenever and however he needed him to be. Dick listened whenever he needed an ear, gave him a shoulder when he needed one, offered him encouragement whenever he doubted himself and his abilities to function as Robin. And much as Raya had chosen to be his _mom_, Dick had chosen to be his _dad_. And he'd remain his dad until the day that he died. And for all that Talia al Ghul was his _mother_; she was nowhere near as amazing as his _dad_.

His mother wasn't the one who would sneak him out for a late night patrol when he was feeling hemmed in by the four walls of his bedroom. Nor would she drape an arm around his shoulders whenever he was missing his father. His mother couldn't answer any question that he asked her without lying, nor did she speak to him as if he was her son and not one of her subordinates. Talia al Ghul would never allow him to sleep in her bed whenever he was sick or injured. Nor would she try to tease him out of one of his black moods by cracking some lame joke that would have him rolling his eyes more often than not. His mother would never put up with his surliness, or his explosive temper. She wouldn't patiently wait out one of his tantrums and then suggest that they go grab dinner at his favorite Thai restaurant. She wouldn't listen to any of his problems, or ask him his advice about a particular business proposition. She'd certainly _never_ included him in any of the "discussions" she'd had with his Grandfather in the past.

She definitely wouldn't sit and play hours of Mortal Kombat with him. Or sneak him chocolate ice cream with peanut butter cups crumbled on top. She wouldn't take him to the carnival on a school day, or hand off a patrol to Drake just to take him to see that new movie that he'd hinted at wanting to see. She would not think to book weekend mother-son getaways, or surprise him with a family campout at the Manor. She'd certainly never encourage him to test his hand at sculpting and painting, or help him build a car from the frame up. His mother would certainly never support his defense of animal rights, or allow him to adopt animals who'd be euthanized otherwise.

She didn't know about his decision to become a vegetarian, or that he had rescued a cow from the slaughterhouse simply because it had a bat shape pattern on its face. And that was because Talia al Ghul had never taken the time to actually get to know the child she'd had her team of _scientists _create in a test tube from genetic material that she'd stolen from his father. She knew absolutely nothing about her son because she didn't care to know anything about him. Damian Wayne was nothing but a weapon to Talia al Ghul. He was nothing but a means to her end objective of seeing Gotham burnt to the ground. And for all that Talia al Ghul liked to claim that she was his mother, she was really nothing more than his egg donor.

It was the exact opposite of Dick and Raya. They were not having a baby in order to use the child against him, Gotham, or each other. This baby was a representation of the love that they felt for each other, which they'd shared with each other. And they were going to love this child that they'd created with every fiber of their being. And he knew that this child was not going to replace him or take away from the relationship that he had with either of them. Unlike Talia al Ghul, their hearts were big enough to allow them to love each and every one of their children equally.

It was then that Damian realized that the only thing about his life that was really going to change with this baby's birth was that _he_ was going to become an older brother. He was going to be responsible for teaching this baby all those things that Dick had taught him way back when _they'd_ only been brothers. This baby was going to look up to him, was going to rely on him, and was going to need _him_ as he'd needed Dick. Suddenly, the idea of this baby wasn't so terrifying. In fact, he was beginning to like the idea the more that he worked it around in his mind. He especially found himself liking the idea of having a baby sister (he'd had his fill of brothers' thank you very much). Particularly if she ended up with that miles wide smile their dad could brandish at the drop of a dime. And got that warm and gentle heart that branded their dad as the hero that he was. And he really liked the idea of a little sister with green eyes like their mom, he thought as he turned on his other side and studied the woman sleeping quietly. And he hoped that she'd smell like the air after a summer rainstorm. Because it was his absolute favorite scent in the whole wide world.

_Grayson, you've done good_, he said silently as he snuggled in and slowly drifted back to sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** So, this is the end of our little journey folks. I was contemplating a fourth chapter but honestly, I think this is the perfect way to end this little tale. It began with Damian talking about his Mom and now I'm closing it with him talking about his Dad and about his becoming a big brother. I do have other parts of this story planned out so if you've enjoyed this one, keep an eye out for those. All reviews are of course welcome. Thanks everyone! Cheers!


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